


Wonderful Unknown

by downtownfishies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downtownfishies/pseuds/downtownfishies
Summary: The morning after the end of his high school volleyball career, all Tooru can think about is Iwaizumi.





	Wonderful Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back and it has been sitting around collecting dust ever since. It is my first attempt at writing these characters and the result is a sort of relationship study as I was trying to get a feel for writing them. Happy Valentine's Day?

I.

Tooru remembers spending every summer break of elementary school running around in the woods with Iwaizumi, even though Tooru hated getting all scratched up and dirty. And Iwaizumi was Hajime back then, before they joined the junior high volleyball team where everyone went by surnames.

And he remembers how he lasted a grand total of two weeks before abbreviating "Iwaizumi" to "Iwa-chan" because the former just took too long to say.

"What the hell is with that nickname?"

"Your name is too long, I-wa-i-zu-mi! Besides, 'Iwa-chan' is cute. Just like you!"

"Lazykawa."

"More like Efficientkawa."

"That's way too long!"

It was always fun to make Iwa-chan blush with silly compliments, until it wasn't.

Tooru remembers in junior high when girls started paying attention to him, glancing his way and giggling, showing up to volleyball matches, bringing him chocolate on Valentine's Day. Third year there was so much chocolate, Tooru hid the ones he couldn't eat in Iwaizumi's locker.

Their other friends all thought Iwaizumi had a secret admirer. Tooru laughed.

"What's so funny?" Iwaizumi demanded, peering at the box of chocolates like it might be a bomb. "Is it so ridiculous to you that a girl might actually like me?"

Tooru had toyed with the idea of continuing the charade, leaving anonymous notes and gifts for the fun of messing with Iwaizumi, but his plans died at the sight of his friend clutching the heart-shaped box, angry and defensive and vulnerable. The secret admirer remained a one-time mystery.

It's been unspoken and absolute since they were children that Iwaizumi looks out for Tooru. It was years of growth spurts and volleyball training before Tooru could match Iwaizumi in height or strength, and even now, Iwaizumi is the reliable one, the sensible one. He followed Tooru to youth volleyball, he followed him to Aoba Jousai, and Tooru knows he wouldn't have made it this far without his best friend. He also knows he's never thanked him for it; he doesn't have the words.

He remembers hesitating before telling Iwaizumi he got invited to Seijou. Iwaizumi was a good player, one of the best, but what if Tooru's school didn't want him? What if he got invited somewhere else? _I'll go alone if I have to,_ he reminded himself. _I'll do what it takes to win._

"I got invited to Seijou," Iwaizumi told him, easily. "You did too, right? I asked."

Everything Iwaizumi has done for him, cheering him up when his plays aren't connecting, defending him from bullies in grade school, looking after his injured knee, and all Tooru can do in return is protect Iwaizumi from the worst of Tooru himself. And he's not even very good at that.

The first summer of high school, brimming with restless energy from the latest of many defeats at the hands of Ushiwaka, Tooru took it upon himself to find a girlfriend for Iwaizumi. Tooru had one, after all, a cute, cheerful girl from the classroom next door who had confessed to him during the last week of spring term. He rather liked the idea of going on a double date-- the more the merrier, right? But Iwaizumi was being incredibly uncooperative, claiming he "didn't know" what his type was and refusing to name even a single girl at school he liked.

"Girls with glasses?" Iwaizumi shrugged. "Girls without glasses?" He scowled noncommittally. "Tall girls? Athletic girls? Short hair? Long hair? Iwa-chan, if you'd rather I set you up with a boy, all you have to do is say so."

It was a bad joke, and it hung in the air just a beat too long to be funny. Iwaizumi said, "I'd rather you minded your own business," and that was the end of it.

Tooru remembers being eight years old and falling asleep watching a movie at Iwaizumi's house, curled up under a blanket together in the winter, and it was the best thing because Iwaizumi was warm and Tooru has always hated being alone. And he remembers being woken for dinner by Iwaizumi's dad, and eating dinner with Iwaizumi's family, because he belonged there just as much as Iwaizumi belonged at Tooru’s house.

When they were in elementary school, before a match Iwaizumi would hold his hand, because he knew Tooru got nervous. Tooru remembers the year they turned eleven, and the day Iwaizumi sat beside him on the bench but didn't reach for his hand. Tooru understood, later, that they had outgrown such a childish thing as hand-holding, just like they'd outgrown sharing blankets last winter, like he would have to outgrow being so nervous before a match. In that moment, though, the fear seized him, and he walked out onto the court with his empty hands clenched into fists as if he could give himself courage.

Iwaizumi was still there, though, and he slapped Tooru's back heartily as they got into position in front of the net. Tooru tossed the ball to him and Iwaizumi spiked it, and everything was fine. Everything was always fine, because even though things changed, they were still them. Iwaizumi was still there, and he always found a way to let Tooru know.

Tooru spent a maybe inordinate amount of time in high school wondering if Iwaizumi liked boys. He seemed more or less indifferent to girls, at least, and took to answering his teammates' questions and teasing with _my one true love is volleyball._ Tooru remembers thinking, _it doesn't bother me if Iwa-chan likes boys._ He remembers seeing Iwaizumi chatting with a boy from another school at the spring high prelims second year; they talked for a long time and Iwaizumi was actually smiling. He was weird and spacey for the rest of the day. Tooru remembers thinking, _it doesn't bother me if Iwa-chan gets a boyfriend,_ but it didn't feel true.

Tooru never wondered about himself; he'd always thought boys could be just as cute as girls and probably would have said yes if one had asked him out. He always said yes to the girls unless there was a tournament coming up. That no boy ever asked was society's problem, he figured, not his; he didn't have time to go chasing after people no matter how cute they were.

He thought of himself as clever, but he remembers sitting at a restaurant with Iwaizumi across the table from him one afternoon in spring, early in their third year. His girlfriend had just broken up with him, so he suddenly found himself with a lot of time on his hands. "You like volleyball more than me," she had accused him, and he'd hardly been able to deny it. He has a lot of friends, he's dated a lot of nice girls, but he likes volleyball better than most people. Probably not his parents, or his brother. Certainly, he thought, looking across the table, not more than he likes Iwaizumi.

He only realized he'd been staring when Iwaizumi caught him at it.

"What?" He demanded, eyes narrowed.

"What are you looking at, Iwa-chan? Don't you see enough of my beautiful face every day? You should take a picture, then you can stare at me whenever you want!" He struck a pose.

Iwaizumi did get out his phone to take a picture, but threw a napkin at Tooru first, so Tooru heard the camera click as he was flinching. Iwaizumi nodded appreciatively at the photo.

"You're so mean to me," Tooru complained. He knew it was the other way around.

"I don't know why you put up with me," said Iwaizumi, and he smiled slightly. It was a look he'd given Tooru ever since they were kids, that said he forgave him for being a whiny brat and a self-centered ass, that no matter what, they were them.

It was then that Tooru realized he was, in fact, an idiot.

He remembers the first time a teacher told him to start thinking about university, when he made a conscious decision to keep those plans separate from Iwaizumi in his mind. He knew he always knew on some level that— it was one thing to go to the same high school but he understood it was only natural that they might part ways after graduation. He knows that and tries to remember the equanimity with which he handled his uncertainty at the end of junior high. _I'll do what it takes to win,_ he tells himself again, but he can't find the confidence that used to support it, just the softness he feels when Iwaizumi is by his side.

 

II.

The morning after the end of his high school volleyball career, Tooru wakes up early out of habit. It takes him about a minute to remember— no practice today. No more practice for the rest of the year. He stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling and seriously considers just going back to sleep. It's not even a school day. He could sleep past noon if he wanted to.

He knows he won't. He feels around on the bedside table for his glasses, puts them on, and pushes himself out of bed.

He doesn't have to do anything today. He did all his homework in advance, on the assumption he'd be playing in the whole tournament. He could hide in his room, he could watch movies all day, no one would blame him for sulking.

He goes to the match. He keeps his head down in the halls of the gymnasium, and picks a seat at the back of the stands. He's not hiding, he just would rather not be recognized by anyone here. There's a difference.

Iwaizumi asked him about it yesterday and Tooru made a big show of insisting he wouldn't go.

"Of course not, Iwa-chan, why would I want to watch a bunch of guys I hate compete for a title I'll never win? I have way better things to do with my time."

Now he wonders if Iwaizumi was asking did Tooru want to go _with him_. Well, there's no sign of him, anyway.

In most ways the match is what he expected it to be, which is to say that it cuts to the heart of his self-esteem and drags out every question he asks himself when he loses. Did you practice hard enough? Did you exhaust your resources? Did you reach your limit? He must hate himself, to come here and watch this match.

He watches with grudging respect, though, as he continues to torment himself, wondering— could I have read that play? blocked that spike? received that serve? It's a useless exercise. No one on his team had ever managed to block a spike or receive a serve from Ushijima. Tooru watches Karasuno's libero gradually get better and better receives off Ushijima's ridiculous serves, he watches the tall kid in the glasses come closer and closer to blocking the spikes. Glasses Boy puts pressure on Shiratorizawa's setter, backing him into a corner— would Tooru have seen through that?

He could have been a part of that team. Pride, Ushijima called Tooru's choice to go to Seijou instead. Tooru calls it common sense. He can't win against Ushiwaka if they're on the same team.

He can't win with Iwaizumi if they're on different teams.

Iwaizumi finds him towards the end of the match. Tooru didn't even realize he was tense until a knot in his chest loosens with the mere fact of Iwaizumi's presence. How embarrassing.

Is it petty of Tooru to hope that Kageyama won't succeed where he repeatedly failed? More or less childish than his desperate wish to see Ushijima knocked down a peg? He waits to ask Iwaizumi this until they're safely out of the gym, the match over, the point moot.

"Yes," Iwaizumi says flatly, "both of those are petty and childish and you should feel bad."

"Oh yeah? Who did you want to win, then?"

"Us, obviously."

_Obviously._ Tooru should know Iwaizumi as well as he knows himself by now, so how does Iwaizumi always manage to startle a laugh out of him like this?

He goes home with Iwaizumi. He doesn't want to examine the impulse too closely, but being alone last night kind of sucked. Iwaizumi's dad feeds them and they spend the evening huddled together on Iwaizumi's bed watching alien movies.

Tooru has slept over before, of course, even since they've been in high school, but usually it was during summer holidays when it was so hot, Tooru was happy to just sleep sprawled on a futon on the floor.

There's nothing weird about this, he tells himself, even as warmth seeps through his shirt where their shoulders are pressed together, and he catches himself thinking about that as much as about the movie.

As the credits play, Tooru lets himself fall onto his side on the bed. "I'm tired." He peeks up at Iwaizumi and finds him unsympathetic.

"Are you going to sleep like that?" Iwaizumi asks, eyeing how awkwardly he's curled up against the wall.

With his toes Tooru nudges Iwaizumi's thigh. "If you would move, I could stretch out my legs."

Iwaizumi complies, standing and taking the blankets with him. Tooru has just a moment to be shocked by the cold before Iwaizumi climbs back onto the bed, shoving Tooru's legs out of his way as he lies down beside Tooru, throwing the blankets over them both. Tooru isn't sure if it's an invitation, but he takes it as one, nestling closer to Iwaizumi and snaking an arm around his waist.

It's been a long week. He no longer cares if he's crossing a line he usually doesn't dare approach. He's cold, and Hajime is warm. And after all, he's Tooru, and Hajime is Hajime.

"Don't make it weird," he warns, and waits for Hajime to make it weird. But Hajime just puts his arms around Tooru, which isn't as weird as it should be. Tooru feels acutely aware of the warmth of Hajime's hands resting lightly on his back.

"Are you sure you're not sulking?" Hajime asks. Tooru thinks about how easy it would be to press his lips to Hajime's throat and kiss the vibrations of his voice.  
He does not do this. "I thought about it," he says lightly, "and decided not to."

"Good. That's good." Tooru closes his eyes and drinks in the praise.

"Only four more months," Tooru says quietly. He watches Hajime's face for his reaction.

Hajime narrows his eyes. "What, until graduation? Why do you have to bring that up now?"

Tooru huffs. "I'm never not thinking about it. Everything is gonna change."

"I've never known you to be afraid of change."

"I never said I was afraid!" he exclaims, riled up in spite of himself.

"Aren't things already changing?" Hajime asks quietly, and Tooru's indignation quiets immediately, replaced by something... else when he meets Hajime's eyes.

_He knows,_ Tooru thinks, ready to panic. But how could he not know? Hajime understands Tooru as well as Tooru understands himself, surely. "Ah, Iwa-chan," he says, flippant to cover his sudden nervousness, "you made it weird."

He's rewarded with Iwa-chan's turn to get flustered. It's too dark to see if he's blushing, but Tooru can guess. "What do you mean, I—"

Tooru cuts him off with a quick press of his lips to Hajime's, barely the start of a long list of things he's imagined doing to— _with_ — Iwa-chan. But Iwa-chan kisses back, hard at first, until he relaxes and lets Tooru push him down onto the bed, sealing their mouths together.   
Tooru has one hand on Hajime's shoulder and the other hovering at his waist near the hem of his shirt, as he wonders how much he can get away with here.

It's Hajime who breaks the kiss, turning his head to the side and addressing the wall as he asks breathlessly, "What— What are we—"

"Doing? Making out, obviously." He keeps his tone light, but his heart is beating fast. That was good, it was more than good, but it's up to Hajime whether it ever happens again. Hajime doesn't say anything but he hasn't pushed Tooru away yet, and he's looking at Tooru now, consideringly like he still doesn't get it— "You gave me the opening. _Aren't things already changing,_ honestly, what did you think was going to happen?"

Calmly, his eyes never leaving Tooru's, he replies, "I figured you'd play it off like a joke the way you always do."

_Always?_ When _always?_ How stupid was he to think he could hide something like this from his best friend? As evenly as he can, he says, "We don't have so much time that I can afford to joke about what I want."

Hajime's eyes widen ever so slightly, but still he holds Tooru's gaze, until Tooru can't take it anymore and tears himself away, burying his face in the crook between Hajime's neck and shoulder. He breathes. He feels Hajime shift and bring up his free hand to rest it on the nape of Tooru's neck, the other still a warm weight on the small of Tooru's back.

Hajime kneads the skin there, massaging Tooru's neck. He always understands, always helps, and Tooru is always just his horrible self.

"What do you want?"

A pause. "I don't know." Another beat. "This, I guess."

Tooru tilts his head to look up at him, privately relieved. "That's not how you say it, Iwa-chan. You're supposed to say 'I want to be with you always, Tooru, no matter what.'"

Not dignifying that with a response, Hajime instead asks, "What happens when we graduate?"

"I don't know if you've heard, but they have these things called cell phones now? The internet? How are you planning to get into university when you're this dumb?" He puts his face close to Hajime's, knows he's grinning wide and doesn't even care because Hajime wants this, wants him—

Hajime pushes his face away, saying, "You're such an asshole," and Tooru gives in and rolls off him into the empty space at Hajime's side, laughing. Hajime laughs too.

When it gets too quiet, Tooru says softly, "Seriously, though, what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know," Hajime says again, but adds, "you don't seriously think you can get rid of me just by going to a different university, though, do you?" He gropes for Tooru's hand and laces their fingers together.

"Excuse you, that's my line."

"Right, of course, I'm stuck with you."

"You love me."

"I hate you."

Tooru climbs back on top of him, grabbing his face in both hands. Hajime tries in vain to push him off again. "Say 'I love you, Tooru'."

"I hate you, Tooru," Hajime says, the words distorted by Tooru squishing his cheeks.

Tooru sighs dramatically. "Close enough." He collapses back onto the bed beside Hajime and finds himself dozing off almost immediately. Half-asleep he feels Hajime tugging at the blankets, adjusting them so he and Tooru are both covered properly.

Whatever happens, it's going to be fine, because they're Hajime and Tooru again, and something else, something new, too.

 

coda.

Years of practice have made Hajime adept at slipping away whenever girls show up to talk to Tooru. Several of them catch him after graduation and he loses track of Hajime as they tearfully wish him luck in his future. Tooru, for his part, managed to get through the ceremony dry-eyed; he made his peace with the end of high school a while ago, and if he cried in private that was between him and Hajime. Literally, tears soaking into Hajime's shirt as Tooru cried messily into his chest—

He made his peace, but that doesn't mean Iwa-chan can just go wandering off on his own, today of all days.

Tooru finds him at the entrance to the second gym, leaning on the door frame, watching their teammates play volleyball. It seems he wasn't the only one who thought to wear workout clothes under his school uniform today. They're playing two-on-two, Hanamaki and Matsukawa against Yahaba and and one of the second-string blockers. One last game, Tooru thinks, then mentally kicks himself for being sentimental. He walks up behind Hajime and rests his chin on Hajime's shoulder. There's some vague line they've been drawing of okay and not-okay PDA, and Tooru figures he's near it, but Hajime just huffs a sigh, so apparently they haven't crossed it yet.

Part of him doesn't care about stuff like that anymore. They graduated, so nobody can call him out on "inappropriate school behavior" (a reprimand he had a few too many times with the girls he used to date). And who's even here to see them? Just the team. His team. Even if they weren't anymore, technically.

Another, more annoying part of him does care, not just because he knows Hajime cares. Tooru just worries because he's vain; Hajime likes to be private. Tooru is neutral— bordering on baffled— where privacy is concerned, but he'll do whatever Hajime wants, in this as in most other things.

"Done chatting with your adoring fans?" Hajime asks dryly.

"For now," Tooru replies, mostly to annoy him. "Is jealousy, like, a permanent setting for you, or something?"

Hajime's response is to shrug out from under Tooru's chin. "Come on," he says, jerking his head toward the court. "One last game."

Tooru scowls, trying to decide whether to tell him _stop reading my mind_ or _you've made it weird again._ Hajime just rolls his eyes and tugs Tooru into the gym by his arm. He loosens his grip and Tooru takes the opportunity to fit their hands together, marching past Hajime and pulling him the rest of the way over to the court.

"We play the winner," Tooru announces when the boys look at him expectantly. He and Hajime step back and watch them play; he thinks Yahaba gets a little more serious after that. Tooru doesn't drop Hajime's hand, and Hajime doesn't pull away.

It feels good to toss to Hajime. It feels safe. And playing two-on-two, Tooru never has to second-guess that feeling. So he doesn't second-guess it when Hajime spikes the winning point— Tooru knows what he wants to do— he grabs Hajime’s face in both his hands and kisses him. In front of Makki and Mattsun and Yahaba-chan and Tsusshi and the handful of other teammates who have trickled in to watch or practice.

_It's fine,_ he tells himself, _they're my team._ But as he draws back from Hajime he steels himself; he has a bad habit of causing trouble for Hajime and this may be just another example of that. He thinks probably not everyone in the gym is staring at them, but the boys nearby are quiet.

"Was that a long-time fantasy for you?" Hajime asks, and Tooru narrows his eyes and lets go immediately, letting Hajime stumble back, off-balance.

"For you, more likely," Tooru retorts. Hajime smirks at him.

"Quit flirting and play ball," Makki calls from the sidelines.

Hajime’s ears are red despite him being so cool a moment ago. "The match is over, asshole," he shouts shouts back.

"Then get ready to lose to us," Mattsun says, retrieving the ball that Yahaba and Tsushima missed.

**Author's Note:**

> Titled after [this](https://youtu.be/Qyfrwf232FI) lovely Ingrid Michaelson song.


End file.
